Ó Paí, Ó

O Pai O veers wildly between genres, and the end simply falls into melodrama and fails.

My only disagreement with the Debblys's (sorry if I misspelled) comment above is that I do think much of the musical soundtrack is good--although not always well-sung by the characters. Caetano Veloso's title song over the end credits (the film is produced by his ex-wife Paula Lavigne) is particularly appealing and catchy. Still, just because I love Bahia so much, I had fun looking at familiar places and listening to the music. I just wish the film had been better. Monique Gartenberg has done some excellent concert videos, but she didn't succeed here.

Somebody wanted to expose the whole life in the poor side of town. It tried to do everything. So it achieved nothing. There are too many characters. Which most probably correspond to some Brazilian stereotype. So probably the movie is much easier to watch to locals. Also the scenes seem realistic, but the acting is theatrical so there might be bad acting or bad directing involved.

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Ó pai ó is a characteristic expression of the city of Salvador, Bahia, which can be translated as "look at this". And what you look at the screen is a parade of urban stereotypes on the last day of the carnival.

However, what was to be expected is surprising and, through music and the ubiquitous sensuality, the characters gain their own definitions, they dignify themselves, and here and there they take flights always certain, albeit short.

Residents of a tenement in Largo do Pelourinho, the characters have a common characteristic: when they act in the horizontal plane, they are tourist representations: the reveler, the baiana, the stallion, the transsexual, the cowrie shells clairvoyant, the believer, the Bonfim's Church.

On the vertical plane, they are citizens who survive in an unequal society: the unsuccessful artist, the receptionist who wants to go to Europe, the European "wife" returned, the clumsy swindler, the vigilante policeman working "overtime" for the traders.

Although there are no protagonists, the painter Roque, who is also a singer, composer, and dancer, participates in the best moments of the movie, the first one at the beginning, when a carnival block formed by almost every one of the cast decides to parade through the streets of an empty Pelourinho. Expelled from the bar of the funny Neusão, Roque sings the beautiful "Come my love" in a truly epic moment.

The second striking scene, also involving Roque, is a discussion of him with the huckster Boca (which seems to encompass all the vices of the movie). Neurotic, Boca decides to offend the painter by calling him "negro", but Roque makes a passionate speech in defense of blackness.

The only person who does not align herself with sensuous-carnival normality is Dona Joana, an evangelical woman who owns the tenement and, for revenge (divine?) against "sinners, witchers and potheads", closes the water of the building, leaving the locals driving mad.

In the end, joy, sadness, tragedy and romance blend into the streets flooded by the participants of the Araketu block. While the other block, Olodum, protests.

Based on Márcio Meirelles' 1992 hit regional play, "Ó Paí, Ó" (pronouced aw-pah-EE-aw, meaning "look at that" or "dig that" in the slang of Salvador, Bahia) uses a decrepit tenement house in the heart of Pelourinho -- the historical site in Salvador where black slaves used to be publicly tortured and now is its major tourist attraction with its beautifully preserved colonial architecture -- as the scenery to parade dozens of "typical", colorful and "exotic" characters. They're supposed to be the embodiment of the pains and delights of the (mostly black) lower classes in Salvador, as they struggle through their tough, unassisted but undeniably eventful lives.

It's true the characters in "Ó.P.Ó" may seem caricatures -- but if you've ever spent some time in Salvador, you've probably met some people just like those on the screen, with their peculiar gift for irony and self-mockery, their ever-ready sensuality, their vocation for laughter and hedonism, their aversion to strictness and rigid morals. If there's a place in the world where people have an effortless vocation for carnal AND spiritual joy, it's definitely Bahia (everybody should go there at least once in their lifetime to check it out). No wonder the funniest moments of the film come from the inimitable Bahia "dialect" and its uniquely mellifluous delivery (which probably won't be grasped by non- Brazilians) more than from the situations or one-liners themselves.

"Ó.P.Ó" is a film with an identity crisis: it's alternately a comedy, a drama, a tragedy, a musical, a documentary (the Carnival scenes), a TV sitcom. The script flutters superficially from politics to racism, from social and sexual prejudices to religious conflicts and fanaticism, from poverty to police violence and corruption, to drug dealing, international prostitution, unemployment, the music business, predatory tourism, Bahia's legendary sexual permissiveness, you name it -- all of it toe-deep. It's also technically problematic, with an excess of close-ups, a rather static camera (enhancing the staginess of the material), many involuntary out-of- focus shots, an overabundance of (poor) songs in the non-stop musical soundtrack, an unbalanced sound mix, bad lip-syncing in the musical numbers. The worst aspect is probably the awfully contrived turn the film takes half-way through, from light comedy into "socially-aware" tragedy; it's not only forced, clichéd and underachieved, but it denies the lesson Aristophanes taught everybody ages ago -- that comedy can be even more effective than tragedy when it comes to social and political comment. I guess the schmaltz finale is part of the original Márcio Meirelles' play, but it betrays all the film's previous interest, style and charm.

This is an actors' film, and most of them deliver accordingly (with the exception of lovely singer Emanuelle Araújo's embarrassingly amateurish performance). Lázaro Ramos proves once again that comedy is his right game; we can tell he's really enjoying his role (he's also associate producer), galaxies away from his often immature dramatic performances. Lázaro's only faux-pas is his off-key, terrible singing: OK, he's supposed to play a mediocre singer (I got it) but did he have to sing FOUR songs to prove it? The usually thrilling Wagner Moura can do very little with his impossible role of a racist/drug dealer/dope-head white guy (the white guys are, naturally and deservedly, the villains here). Dira Paes resorts to some of her well-known tricks, but when you're that sexy, who minds? The real standouts are Luciana Souza as the prissy religious hag, Rejane Maia as the irrepressible acarajé-seller Baiana and Tânia Tôko as butch lesbian bar-owner Neuzão. Singer Virgínia Rodrigues has a hilarious cameo as Biocentão (a Bahia caricature version of Beyoncé Knowles).

It's been recently announced that "Ó.P.Ó" will become a TV sitcom series (if negotiations succeed) and that's just fair enough: it's typical TV sitcom material all the way. If you're aware of that fact when you see the FILM, you won't have any undue expectations and you won't be disappointed -- except for the terrible denouement and the most shameless, in-your-face pieces of merchandising you EVER saw in any movie.

2.452 / 5.000 Assisted before 2012, resetting in 2025 (note 8.5) the exaggerated comic style does not attract me, however, the dialogues are very intelligent, and work better with a social criticism with a light and fun, abuse of racist (intentionally) jokes by mixing regionalism, football, religion, and shooting without distinction, indiscriminately, indiscriminately, although a little tiring for those who are not so tiring adherents of the theatrical comedy ...

The lives of the residents of a lively tenement of Pelourinho, Heart of Salvador, on the last day of Carnival. Between the lack of money and the desire to have fun, they survive at the expense of much creativity, irony, sensuality and music.